Hunger Satisfied
by saturdayslump
Summary: When a curse brought back from Europe overwhelms Emily, will she turn on a friend to end her suffering? This is rated M for a reason.


**I am not particularly good with dedications. Generally, a word or two is enough for me and then I just want to get on with it. However, this time around, a dedication is not only appropriate, but necessary. So. **

**This story is dedicated to raffinit, who inspired and encouraged it. Her gift for words, for crafting a story, eliciting emotion without pandering to the audience, her humor, brains, and wit are all benchmarks for how I want to evolve as a writer. It isn't your enjoyment of what I'd written that pushed me to publish, raff. Rather, it was your sheer certainty that exploration as a writer (and person) is an absolute right and pushing boundaries (your own and others) is something to celebrate.**

**DISCLAIMER: Surprise! I don't own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

Emily was starving. In the year since her return from Europe, she'd never been so hungry, so drained of energy. The curse she'd carried back from France was usually under control. Her neighbor, Andra, unknowingly helped her stay sated and innervated. Em wasn't sure how it happened. A straight succubus shouldn't have been able to feed on the energy of her lesbian neighbor's sex life. But one night, not long after she'd moved into her apartment, when she was on the brink of giving in to her need to hunt, Andra became her sole source of sustenance.

She had been huddled in her favorite armchair, wincing against the pain wracking her body. The hunger and nearly desperate need to feed was excruciating. Emily knew she was going to have to give in. She would have to wander out into the night and track down a random man to seduce so she wouldn't shrivel up and die. Just as she'd resolved herself to her fate, the quiet of the night was broken by a sharp gasp followed by a long, low moan. Emily could barely hear the noises through the plaster, but she felt the waves of energy and recognized them immediately. Cautiously, she crept closer to the wall dividing her living room from Andra's bedroom. The waves of energy were stronger the closer she stepped to the wall. They pulsed with life and sex. Emily pressed her ear to the wall and listened hard.

"Oh, god, Andra!" she heard. "Oh… right… there… Oh, my god, what are you doing to me!" It wasn't a question and it wasn't a cry for help – at least not the help for which Emily was needed. They were unabashed cries of ecstasy, unmistakable even through the deafening properties of the wall. And Emily could inexplicably feel the sexual energy; she drew on it, fed as Andra and her lover cried out on the other side of the wall. For a brief moment, Emily was able to connect with them. She saw Andra, her mouth between her lover's thighs, her hands kneading sweat-slicked flesh. Andra's her partner, an unfamiliar brunette, arched off the sheets of the bed. Her body was bowed, beautiful and smooth in the dim light of the bedroom. Then her orgasm hit and Emily was filled with more sexual energy than she thought she could manage. Her skin filled with heat and light as she absorbed it, her own body curving as she climaxed along with the unknown brunette. She knew she was glowing – a bizarre by-product of feeding – and closed her eyes against the brightness emanating from her pores. She didn't want any more reminders of what she had become.

When it was over, when the light had dimmed and gathered back into her body, Emily lay in a quivering heap on the floor. She could barely hear the soft, post-coital murmurings of Andra and her lover now, but it didn't matter. She'd gotten what she'd so desperately needed. Emily hadn't realized a succubus could feed like that, absorb sexual energy by proxy. But, in honesty, it was an enormous relief. She wouldn't have to go out and find a random fool to drag into a seedy alley somewhere. Emily'd learned early on that she didn't have to actually have sex with the men she found, small consolation that it was. All she had to do was get them off then drain the needed energy from them. They never remembered her after it was over, her one small gift to them. But they were usually drained of any energy, some on the brink of death. It took them days or weeks to recover, depending on how much she drew from them.

But Andra and Dee, as Emily later learned the brunette was named, were a novel experience. Emily didn't have to do anything and her neighbors kept her well-fed. They were adventurous, lusty, making love, fucking, experimenting every day, every week. The inexplicable connection between the lovers and their neighbor had opened Emily to an entire world of sexuality she'd never imagined. She knew pleasure, fun, giddiness, and overwhelming desire from her personal experiences. From work, she'd learned of pain, fear, and hatred. But when Andra and Dee came together, Emily felt the love between them. It carried through the waves of energy that kept her fed. She could feel loving hands caress her body, the flick of Andra's tongue, the deep vibrations that echoed through Dee's body. The longer the pair was together, the more Emily felt as if she was a part of their relationship.

Their appetite for one another was so intense, Emily was even able to catch small waves of sexual energy emanating from them when she passed them in the hallway or the parking garage. Sparks of energy would lick along her skin. Emily feasted on their sex, delighting in these little "snacks" she was able to absorb in passing.

But the last snack had been almost three weeks ago, just before Andra and Dee had an explosive argument that ended their relationship. Emily prayed that they would reunite. She'd kept her fingers crossed for a reunion, even a brief one. Angry sex, make up sex, punishment sex… _anything_. But the couple didn't indulge her silent prayers. Since their breakup, Andra's apartment was always silent and nearly always empty.

And now Emily was starving. She needed sustenance. Emily could feel her skin shrinking, molding itself to her bones as she starved. And she was weak. She'd nearly fainted today in the conference room at the police department in Atlanta. The heat, the stress of the current case got to her and she stumbled into the single-stall bathroom, gasping for breath and struggling to keep herself upright. She'd managed, barely, to pull herself together enough to tell Hotch she was ill and let him send her back to the hotel for rest. While the team was trying to solve their latest case, Emily wandered from floor to floor of the anonymous hotel, desperately seeking the waves of energy that would sustain her. She managed to consume just enough to carry her to the dimly lit hotel bar in search of prey. Emily waited at a back table, sipping a glass of terrible wine and hoping that none of her colleagues decided on a nightcap as she perused the offerings in the bar for next meal. Her only concern was that she was so hungry she might devour everything her unwilling donor had to offer, sucking all of the life out of him.

It took nearly an hour before Emily could work up enough courage to approach her victim. She popped the top two buttons of her shirt, an unnecessary enticement for the chosen donor. Emily could feel his desire from across the bar. Easy pickings.

Before she could slide from the stool, Hotch slide onto the seat across from her. Emily froze, her dark eyes widening in her pale face. Her lips parted, a perfect "o," in surprise at his sudden appearance.

"Hotch?" she stuttered out.

"Emily. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

She didn't immediately respond. Really, she had no idea what to say. _I'm a succubus and I need to fuck someone's life force out of him because my lesbian neighbors broke up _didn't seem particularly convincing. Emily opened her mouth to respond, although she had no idea what she was actually going to say, when she saw her intended dinner sidle up to a tipsy, giggling twenty-something at the bar. She could feel his interest redirect toward the twinkie wobbling on too-high heels.

"Hotch, I promise I'll explain everything later," she told her boss distractedly as she moved again to vacate her chair. Her desperation escalated as the potential donor and the drunk twinkie cuddled closer over watered-down drinks. All of Emily's senses tingled and she knew the couple would soon be heading up to one of their rooms and she would lose her opportunity for an easy meal. She needed to get his attention quickly. Emily tried to move past the table, but Hotch snagged her wrist.

"I don't think so. I think you're going to tell me right now," he demanded as he held her in place.

She tried to jerk away, to make a break for toward her chosen donor, but she was too weak and Hotch's grip too strong. He wasn't letting her get away. Emily could only watch in fatigued desperation as her food source stumbled from the bar with the drunk twinkie. A sob caught in her throat. What was she going to do now? There was no way she would make it through another day without an energy source. She needed to get away, to get to her room so she could think. Drawing on the last bit of her strength, Emily yanked free of Hotch and ran from the bar. She managed to catch an elevator before the doors closed and she sagged in relief and exhaustion as she watched the doors close before Hotch, who'd obviously abandoned the bar immediately after her, could push his way into the car.

When the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, Emily stumbled out and dragged herself to the door of her hotel room. She closed the door just as Hotch emerged from the stairs, although she didn't notice the sound of his running feet pounding down the hallway. Emily stood just inside her room gripping her chest as if that would ease the nearly unbearable pain wrenching through her. She was too hot and every inch of her burned in agony. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see clearly, couldn't manage to think through the pain.

In her desperation for air and consciousness, Emily stripped off her pearly gray button down shirt, hoping to cool her over-heated body and prevent her imminent blackout. In her haste, Emily did not hear Hotch knock demandingly on her door. When she didn't answer, he slid the key card into the lock and pushed his way into the room. Although he usually hesitated to use the spare keys to gain access to his agents' rooms, something was obviously wrong and he shoved his conscience aside in order to focus on helping Emily. He followed the sounds of labored breathing to the bathroom and discovered Prentiss crying silent tears.

"Emily?" he asked, immediately concerned at finding one of his toughest agents doubled over. "Are you alright?" He squatted down next to her, placing his hand on the now bare part of her upper back. It was a simple, unconscious gesture, meant only to comfort her. But Emily groaned at the contact.

"Please, Hotch. Please, don't touch me," she pleaded harshly.

Hotch snatched his hand away from her skin, shocked by her tone and request. Emily was an open person, not given to emotional or physical isolation. Her uncharacteristic demand worried Hotch as much as it wounded him.

Emily could see his face in the reflection of the mirror over the sink. She knew she'd hurt him. He wasn't a physical person by nature, and her rejection of his unusual display of care obviously stung.

"I'm sorry, Hotch," she gasped, trying to get the wrenching pain coursing through her gut under control. "It just hurts," she confessed. It was the best cover she could muster under such constraints. Yes, Hotch's touch had been painful. But in truth, the gentle press of his palm against her clammy skin had created such a wave of yearning in her that she'd almost turned on him. It took every ounce of her self-control, every shred of decency not to pounce on Hotch and fuck him until he came in gushing waves, screaming her name. But she couldn't. Aside from the fact that he was her boss and her friend, Emily knew she was too close to the brink of the beast to even consider relieving her suffering with Hotch. She needed too much and would probably drain him completely to satisfy her hunger.

Even knowing she couldn't have him, Emily had to bite back a moan at the thought of satisfying her need with him. Her curse gave her unnatural intuition on prospective lovers and this insight, coupled with her own personal knowledge of the man, afforded Emily an uncompromising visual of how they would be together if she gave in to her desire. She could feel the demon taunting her… his hands, the sleek musculature of his body, his strength, his control. He would know how to touch her, when to press harder, take what he wanted while he gave her everything she needed. She could nearly feel the flex and thrust of his hips grinding mercilessly into her until she came.

Emily shuddered against the onslaught of images. It was too much. Her need was too great and Hotch's presence too tempting. Unable to help herself, Emily reached out and placed her hand on his. She channeled her demon into that one small touch and pushed her lust into her friend. Hotch's pupils dilated and his nostrils flared at the contact. Suddenly, he jerked Emily from her prone position, pressing close to her body, grinding his hips against the firm swell of her ass. Hotch braced her hands on either side of the full length mirror, forcing Emily to watch them together. Without a word, he shoved his hands under her camisole and bra, pushing the garments out of his way. Palming her breasts, Hotch thrust his hips against her ass again, causing Emily to arch into both points of contact and moan at the sensations pulsing throughout her body.

"Shhh, Emily, you have to be quiet," Hotch instructed. "Reid is in his room next door."

But Emily couldn't control herself. Unexpectedly, Hotch was the aggressor in their encounter, where normally she pursued the ones she'd chosen to satisfy her need. She groaned again as heat suffused her, at the waves of sexual energy pouring out of Hotch.

"If you don't stay quiet, I'll gag you with my tie. Do you understand?" he demanded.

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but no words escaped. The thought of him using his crisp red tie to silence the sounds of her pleasure sent an erotic throb straight to her groin. She knew he liked the idea too. As Hotch uttered his threat, a wave of unadulterated lust burst from him. He wanted to wrap his tie around her mouth, trapping the noises he elicited in her throat.

Not used to being ignored when he gave a command, Hotch pinched her nipples, "Do you understand me, Emily?"

"Yes," she whispered, unable to utter anything more.

"Good."

With admirable dexterity, Hotch flipped open the clasp of her pants and let them slip down her legs to bunch around her feet. He forestalled her movement when Emily went to kick her feet free of them. He didn't want her to be able to spread her legs too far, knowing it would make his penetration more difficult. His hands made quick work of his own trousers, pushing them and his underwear down his thighs before pulling Emily's green panties to her knees. She was finally exposed to him and he wasted no time in pushing the blunt head of his erection into the damp opening of her vagina. He held there briefly, reveling in Emily's gasping breaths before ramming himself fully into the tight, wet heat of her body. Emily sucked in a breath to scream at the pain and pleasure, but Hotch wrapped one of his hands around her mouth, and she only managed a muffled squeak. Hotch's hand pulled slightly and Emily's head dropped back in response and breaking eye contact with her reflection.

Hotch slid his length slowly from Emily's narrow passage, causing her to shudder at the sensation. Then he leaned his lips closer to her ear and spoke.

"Is this what you've been needing, Emily?" he whispered roughly, just before he thrust fully into her again. With her legs only shoulder-width apart, she was narrow and tight. She could feel every ridge, every throbbing vein as he worked himself back into her body.

Hotch continued his methodical onslaught. A slow, deliberate slide out of the clinging wetness of her body followed by a sudden, violent push back into the tight heat, all while he whispered coarsely in her ear. Emily almost couldn't stand it. The bright lights made her eyes water, while Hotch's grip over her mouth kept her body arched in the perfect position to feel every movement of his body inside her and against her. His breath fluttered hotly over the bare skin of her ear and neck and his words echoed through her, setting off minefields of desire. She lost all control of herself as her demon came to life. She came, screaming against Hotch's hand, greedily feeding on the sexual energy as Hotch pounded on unrelentingly. Her skin began the telltale glow of her curse – the bright, silvery light pouring from her skin.

"Look, Emily," Hotch told her, easing his grip on her mouth and allowing her eyes to catch her reflection in the mirror. "Look what I can give you."

Emily opened her eyes fully and watched the brightness seeping from her pores intensify as she drew on Hotch's sex. She was bright and beautiful, gleaming like the full moon on a clear winter night.

"This is what I can give you, Emily. Only me, forever," he told her.

Her eyes met the reflection of his in the mirror before he leaned forward and licked along the straining cord of her neck. Without warning, he bit down, elongated canines piercing her delicate skin and he drew roughly on the blood that welled there. The feel of him taking deep pulls from her neck as his hips continued to piston threw Emily into unexpected orgasm. Hotch groaned his own release, pumping into her core as he drew his own sustenance from her throat. He fucked her until he was full and had nothing left to give her then eased carefully away from her body. They sank to the floor, exhausted and temporarily sated. Emily's torso managed to collapse in a warm, sweaty tangle draped across Hotch's abdomen, which gave him a clear view of the damage to her neck. He'd been rougher than he'd intended or expected and the jagged wounds marring her pale skin disturbed him. Hotch levered himself off the floor and leaned forward until his mouth could reach the injury. He licked the puncture spots repeatedly until they closed and were no more than pale pink dots on a porcelain surface.

Despite Emily's contented sighs at his ministrations, Hotch felt guilty for his savagery. He hadn't intended to hurt her; he just hadn't been able to stop himself. He'd been watching Emily for years – watching and wanting and coveting everything about her. But he'd known he couldn't go near her. No. His… condition… made it impossible. Aside from the very real possibility that Emily would probably have killed him if she'd found out what he was (Emily was open minded, but probably not one to just let the whole vampire thing slide), there was always the looming fear that he would hurt her. She was human, with all the physical weaknesses that entailed.

But now… she wasn't. Hotch had known immediately that she came back from Europe a little different. It had taken him a while to figure out what had changed. One morning, he'd smelled it: sex. He didn't smell that she'd had sex. There was no scent of another man on her. He'd been entirely too grateful for that. He wasn't sure what he would have done if he'd discovered she was having sex with someone. In all likelihood, a bloody homicide would have occurred and all that would have been found of the man in question was a bloodstain in his living room. But that hadn't been the case. Rather, the scent of sex seemed to emanate from her. It was soft, barely detectable even to someone with his heightened senses. Hotch doubted any of the guys they worked with had even noticed. It was a tiny, curious thing, an oddity that caught and held his attention.

Not long after that, Hotch started following Emily. He needed to know, needed to understand the differences and what they could mean for him. She was not an easy woman to follow. Emily had her own heightened senses; initially, she'd been strung out on adrenaline, constantly looking over her shoulder. The paranoia from her past posed a constant obstacle to Hotch's surveillance. After a while, when Emily had settled into a routine, relaxed back into her D.C. environment, shadowing her became easier. It took several weeks, but then Hotch caught it… the shimmering, pale light that seeped around the edges of her living room curtains. He began to notice the glow several times a week, and Emily always looked healthiest the mornings after he caught a glimpse of that silvery light. It took him longer to understand the cause, and, in the end, he had only discovered its meaning by accident.

One of the few friends from law school that Hotch actually kept in touch with had abandoned the legal field to pursue art, although not as an artist. Hamish was the first person to admit that he had zero artistic skills. But he loved art – not just the beautiful works, but the history of art, its impact on culture, and how it has been used in politics, religion, and war. Hamish was also a pushy bastard, and had finally needled Hotch to the point that the FBI agent gave in and agreed to attend a lecture Hamish was giving at the National Gallery on artistic renderings of mythology. During the lecture, one of the images Hamish used caught Hotch's eye. The artist had bathed the female figure in a beautiful, pale light that shimmered in the otherwise dreary painting. The nude woman was obviously in the throes of passion, her head thrown back and her mouth open on a silent scream. Despite her lush curves, her face was distorted, nearly monstrous, and her lover looked at her in horror. After the lecture, Hotch asked Hamish about the painting, and got the first idea of what Emily might have become.

"Oh, that's a minor work," Hamish had said. "It's from the 15th century and is based on the legends of succubi."

"On the legends of what?"

"You know, a succubus – a demon that appears to her lover in the guise of a beautiful woman and essentially sucks his life force when they fuck."

"Isn't that how most men describe their first wives?" Hotch asked.

Hamish laughed. "I know, but it's true. They first started appearing in European folklore during the Church's crackdown on women. The idea definitely fits in with the concept of women as the ultimate sinners and a threat to the dominance of men."

"I've never heard of it before."

"It wasn't one of the more common myths. I've got to say though, even if she did suck the life right out of me, it might be worth it."

"What?"

"The sex was supposed to be amazing, addictive even. And the glowing… hell, that's pretty damn amazing to think about."

After that conversation, Hotch had researched everything he could find on the succubus. It hadn't been much, and he'd considered asking Reid for help, but decided it was best to keep it to himself. The boy wouldn't be able to stop himself from spewing little gems about succubi lore. The more Hotch followed Emily, the more it seemed to make sense. The scent of sex that emanated from her, the glowing, she seemed stronger, fitter than ever, and she healed faster than he could imagine. It gave him hope that maybe… maybe she could handle him physically and he could finally get what he wanted from her.

He watched her relentlessly, waiting for a moment when she was vulnerable and hungry. He knew Emily. If she was in her right mind, she would never give in to him, succubus or not. Their friendship, their working relationship, they were sacred and she would never jeopardize them by turning to him for sustenance. No, he would have to wait until she absolutely needed him for survival, when she wouldn't be able to push him away.

But he'd been waiting for months, waiting and needing and wanting. Until the last few weeks, Emily had always seemed well-fed and satisfied. Hotch had his suspicions about how she was accomplishing this feat without seeking out her own partners, but now it didn't matter. He'd found her, desperate and starving, and given her everything she needed while taking everything he desired from her body. Hotch had been rough, he'd needed to be. He'd clouded her mind with passion, short-circuiting any objection she would otherwise have made, and then fucked her senseless. There had been no emotion, only a raw need that each had been able to satisfy with the other. With her half naked body draped across him, all Hotch could think was that the wait had definitely been worth it. For the first time since he'd developed his condition, Hotch wasn't hungry. But his lust for Emily was barely slaked. He wanted her again and his body stirred at the thought of everything he wanted to do to her and with her, preferably starting with the threat about his tie.

Emily stirred lazily, purring under the caress of Hotch's tongue. She stretched, pleasantly sore from his onslaught. Her eyes opened, blinked against the harsh light of the fluorescent fixture in the bathroom. Slowly, her eyes focused and she looked up into Hotch's dark eyes. Of their own volition, her fingers rose to trace the sharp planes of his face. Hotch turned into her palm and pressed an unexpectedly sweet kiss to her palm.

"How did you know?" she asked softly.

"I knew you were different when you came back, but I didn't know why. I only figured it out by chance."

"How long have you known?"

"A while, about 5 months."

"You never said anything."

"I wasn't sure what to say."

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

Emily rolled over and propped her hands on his chest. "How long have you been…" she couldn't finish.

"A vampire?" Hotch finished for her. "Remember the Angel Maker?"

"In Canaan, Ohio? Yeah, it was one of the weirder cases we've handled."

"I decided to drive back because of the injury to my ears."

"I remember. You'd barely been cleared for field duty because of your eardrum."

"Right. I couldn't fly, so I decided to take Rossi's advice and drive back over a couple of days. I stopped that night in Irwin, Pennsylvania. It's a tiny town off the interstate. There was a decent enough hotel near a diner. I walked over to grab something to eat, when I headed back…" he stopped and shook his head.

"Hotch? What happened?"

"I'm not sure. It was dark, I heard something… turned to look and then it was on me. I was able to fight it off, get back to the hotel room. Hell, I never even saw it clearly. The next morning, I felt terrible. The light was too bright and I was so weak. I'd had weird dreams all night and hadn't slept well. I just wanted to get home. On my way out of town, the sheriff pulled me over. Explained what had happened."

"Wait, he knew? He knew he had a vampire in his town and he didn't do anything to stop it?"

"Emily… he didn't just know about the vampire, he was one, too. Most of the people in the town are. He, uh, tried to convince me to stay," Hotch confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"They try to keep people like them in town, keep the secret close. I declined his offer."

"He just let you leave?" Emily asked incredulously.

Hotch's grin was a bit feral. "Not exactly. He tried to force the issue and I shot him in the face."

"Jesus, Hotch. Have they come after you since then?"

"Only once. They didn't approach me. I think they were just checking to make sure I was keeping a low profile. I acknowledged them, they acknowledged me, and that was it. They left and I haven't heard anything since then."

"What about Jack?"

"What about him?"

"Aren't you afraid you'll… I don't know, attack him when you're hungry?"

Hotch laughed. "No. Actually, I don't crave his blood at all. I can smell it; it acts like a warning device, so I know if he's been injured or if he's sick, but there's no craving for it. I have to be careful though because my parental instincts go into overdrive. I nearly decked one of the dads at a soccer game because he was so busy yelling at his kid, he ran over mine. Jack got knocked to the ground and I lost control a bit."

"How do you pass your PRT?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well… you're a vampire. Aren't you dead?"

Hotch threw back his head and laughed. It was a deep, rich sound that reverberated throughout his body. It was also surprisingly joyous considering the topic and Emily couldn't help but smile in response.

"Emily, do I seem dead to you? Here," he took her hand and placed it over his heart. "See? My heart still beats. I breathe, I feel. The sun makes me weak. I think it's a kind of allergy, but I don't burst into flames. I'm more nocturnal than I was before. I can still eat and drink, although I truly only crave blood… and you."

Emily just stared into his eyes, unable to speak. There was an unexpected tenderness in the dark depths.

"What happened to you, Em?"

Emily sighed and looked away from him, afraid to see the tenderness turn to condemnation. She took a deep, soothing breath before speaking. "It was in France. I met a guy… he was nice enough, I suppose. He made me laugh, which I really needed then. I liked him. I'm not sure that anything more would have developed, but we had dinner a few times, drinks. Turns out, he had this… stalker. A woman he'd met while working in Germany. She was in my flat when I came home one night. She knocked me unconscious before I even knew she was there. When I woke up… she was chanting something. I still don't really know how she did it. I asked her what she wanted; she told me since I was such a whore, she'd indulge me and make me one forever," Emily said. Her voice was soft now and Hotch could hear the sadness.

"What happened?"

"She cursed me. I fainted during the… ritual or whatever. When I came to, I was starving, but nothing I ate would fill me up. I started wandering around the city trying to figure out what had happened. A guy grabbed me, dragged me into an alley. God, I was so weak, I couldn't fight him off. He pinned me to the ground, dragged at my clothes… then… I could feel it…"

"What?"

"The energy. His desire was pouring out of him and I… I latched onto it. I know he intended to rape me, and I shouldn't feel guilty, but I do. I latched onto him Hotch and drew all of that energy into me. I started glowing like a damn candle and he was screaming the entire time. I couldn't stop myself. When I was full, he was gibbering incoherently. I left him in the alley and ran back to my flat."

"Jesus, Emily. He didn't hurt you?"

"Hotch, I hurt him. When the police found him, he was barely alive. I followed the story for a while in the local press. He was in a coma for a few weeks, and after he woke up he wasn't… he wasn't right. They institutionalized him."

"Emily, he was a rapist and got exactly what he deserved. If it had been another woman he would have assaulted her, maybe even killed her. I only care that you were okay," he told her emphatically, reaching up to stroke her hair out of her face.

"I wish it was that simple," she whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"I found the woman that cursed me. I… I tortured her until she told me what she had done. When she told me what I was, what I would have to do to survive… I freaked. I told her to undo the curse and she just laughed. I lost it then, Hotch..."

"What did you do?" Hotch asked, but there was no response.

Emily couldn't answer. She was still horrified by what she'd done, and kept her face away from Hotch's.

But Hotch would have none of it. He reached over and took her chin, firmly turning her face to his, forcing their eyes to meet. "What happened, Emily?"

Emily's dark eyes filled with tears and she released a sobbing breath. "I killed her, Hotch. I completely lost control and killed her. She was laughing and telling me I'd have to live like the whore I was… and I… I… I punched into her chest and ripped her heart out," she confessed.

Hotch sat up and gathered her close, pressing her face into his shoulder as he rubbed her back in long, soothing strokes. "Shh, Emily. Don't cry," he whispered.

"It felt so good, Hotch. For a brief moment, it felt amazing. I felt so powerful with her blood dripping through my fingers. I knew exactly what all those people we'd hunted felt like, and I wanted to feel it again. I'm afraid, Hotch. So afraid I'll be a monster too," she confessed.

"No, baby, no. You're not a monster," Hotch assured her, holding her tightly to his chest. "Please don't cry, Emily. You're not a monster. What was done to you was monstrous. But you're not. Look at everything you've done, the people you've helped just since you've been back in D.C. You're not a monster." He continued to let his fingers trail up and down her spine as her tears slowly tapered off.

Emily sniffled, feeling miserable and oddly comforted all at once. It had been so long since she'd been able to confide completely in anyone, and the burden of her new existence had weighed on her. As she sat curled against Hotch's chest, she realized that she wasn't the only one who'd been carrying an enormous secret.

"How did you do it?" she asked him.

"Hmm? How did I do what?" Hotch wondered.

"How have you carried this secret around with you? It was bad enough for me and I've only been doing it for a little more than a year. How have you dealt with being… you know… a vampire?"

Hotch was quiet for a moment, letting his fingers continue to ghost up and down Emily's spine while he thought about his answer. "I'm not like you, Em. I'm not naturally an open person. I'm suspicious, secretive, guarded. You know that."

"But once you let people in, they're there. You offer support, friendship."

"Yes, but I'm also ruthless and even with my friendships, I can be calculating if necessary. I've had to be able to shut my feelings down in order to lead the team, to get up every day and face the real monsters. The things that I've seen, the things that have happened to me and everyone else… they've affected me more than I've ever let on. Hell, outside of the BAU, I think I can count the people I truly trust on one hand."

"I don't think that makes you so very different from the rest of us, Hotch. Look at who we are, who we turn to first when we need something, or want to share good news. We turn to one another. Outside the Bureau, there are Will and Jessica, but not really anyone else."

"And Clyde."

"Yeah, Clyde is not like that. I trust him to keep me alive, but that's about it. He's got more secrets than anyone I know."

"Is that what you want?"

"What?" she asked, confused at the turn in the conversation.

"Do you want someone you can trust?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Yes," he confessed. Hotch realized the truth of what he was saying. He trusted Emily, had trusted her before he'd discovered her secret. But he realized something even greater: he wanted her to trust him. He was silent as he contemplated this revelation and what to do about it.

As he sat with her cradled against his chest and his hand caressing her back, the lure of Emily's body became too much. His hand swept up her spine and into the thick dark hair at the nape of her neck. He titled her head back and leaned down for a slow, thorough kiss. Soon, his other hand rose to gently cup her cheek, and his fingertips softly grazed the sharp blade of bone. Hotch's tongued leisurely explored the recesses of her mouth, savoring the dark, rich flavor that contrasted with the soft succulence of her lips. Emily sighed when they broke apart, languor suffusing her limbs. His gentleness was intoxicating and she wanted him again.

"Emily…" he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Let me take you to bed," he requested.

Emily pulled away enough to look into his eyes and saw the promise there. Without a word, she disentangled herself from his lap then stood and offered him a hand. He took it, relying on her balance to push himself to his feet then followed her from the bathroom into the small hotel bedroom.

Aaron took his time removing her clothing. He was careful, deliberate, but he did not tease. His care, after the brutality of their earlier encounter was its own seduction. When Emily wore only her panties, Hotch took a single step back to admire her. His heart clutched in his chest as he stared.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered.

Emily blushed in response, a pale pink flush that spread from her breasts to her scalp. She smiled coyly at him. "You think?"

"Yes," he responded. It was a short and absolute response.

Her smile broadened. "I'd say the same for you, Hotch, but I've only seen your face, and, as much as I like it, I'd prefer to make my decision based on the entire view," she teased.

The corner of Hotch's mouth quirked up a bit at her cheeky response. He reached for his tie, pulling it loose, but not unraveling the knot. After he pulled it over his head, he held it out to Emily. "Hang on to this for me," he instructed.

Emily took the tie in her hands, running her fingers over its rich, silky softness. It was a bright scrap of red textured with a subtle diamond pattern. Without thought, she slipped it over her head and let it dangle seductively between her breasts.

Hotch stared at her, overwhelmingly hungry again. He didn't think she knew that's what he ultimately intended to do to her, but his tie had ended up exactly where he wanted it. The red was brilliant against the gleaming pearl of her skin, almost as dark and enticing as her blood.

Emily noticed his stare and sudden immobility and recognized the heat in his eyes. She tugged the knot tighter around her throat and purred, "See something you want, Aaron?"

Her words broke the spell and Hotch resumed removing his clothes, although his fingers were definitely moving faster on his buttons. He shucked his suit jacket, shirt, trousers, and socks and shoes in less than a minute, leaving the garments in an untidy pile on the floor. When he was mostly disrobed, he paused to let Emily look at him. He was lean, bordering on too thin, but his body was tightly muscled. He would never be like Morgan, fit with a bounty of muscle, but he was strong and trim, which suited him. From the admiration in Emily's eyes, his body suited her as well.

When Hotch could no longer stand her perusal of his body, he stalked forward. Emily did not retreat. Instead, she held her place, letting him come to her. She held still when he ran his hands over her body, managed not to shudder as his hands caressed over sleek muscles. But when his lips trailed over her breasts and along her collar bone to her throat, she could not stop her head from tipping back. Hotch recognized the silent offer and growled against her throat, just above the tantalizing red of his tie.

"Not yet," he panted. "I want to give you something first."

"You don't have to give me anything more, Aaron," she said softly.

Hotch pulled back, waited until Emily's eyes opened and focused on his. "Do you trust me, Emily?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Of course I do, Hotch. I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't."

"I want to give you something… to show you… But I need you to trust me."

"Alright."

"No, you have to say it. I need you to tell me you trust me."

"I trust you, Aaron. I know you won't hurt me."

"If you get scared or feel uncomfortable at all, you have to tell me, okay?"

"I will."

"If you don't like it or want me to stop, just say it and I will."

"Okay."

Upon her consent, Hotch walked her backwards to the bed and helped her ease back onto the mattress. When she was comfortable, Hotch once again began exploring her body with his hands. Strong, smooth caresses that made Emily sigh and shiver. When her eyes were closed, Hotch gently clasped the edges of her underwear then slid them down the lengths of her legs. It was a slow, torturous trip, but eventually the swatch of green silk was added to the pile of Hotch's clothes. Emily lounged on the bed, the red tie the only scrap of fabric remaining. The sight of it and what it made him feel had Hotch shucking his boxer briefs before climbing back onto the bed. He teased his way back up her body with a wicked tongue that incited riotous flames of desire under her skin.

When he reached her throat, Hotch took hold of the tie and pushed the knot tighter around her throat. Emily's eyes rounded in surprise as she finally understood his earlier request. She did trust him, knew he wouldn't hurt her and that if she gave the word, he would stop. Emily nodded slightly and Hotch pushed the knot fully into the hollow at the base of her throat. A frisson on excitement licked its way through her body and Emily gasped reflexively. But the tie was just tight enough to lower her oxygen intake, and she arched at the sensation. Tiny pinpricks of light burst behind her eyelids as they fluttered closed and her nipples immediately hardened into stiff points. Hotch wrapped the tails of tie around his hand and twisted it to the side, keeping the Windsor knot tight enough as thrust fully into Emily's body.

Emily gasped again, overwhelmed by the feeling. The lack of oxygen seemed to heighten his every movement. His free hand gliding across her skin, the push and pull of his body against hers, his lips nibbling and sucking at her breasts. Emily was bombarded by each new movement, unable to process the overload of pleasure as Hotch set a relentless pace. She gasped again, _too much, too much_, she thought before she came as a shocking wave of ecstasy ripped through her. She tried to scream, needing some way to release the intense pleasure she was sure would tear her apart. Bright lights flashed on her lids, explosions of color that mimicked the bursts of sensation ricocheting in her body. Only a faint noise escaped before her eyes rolled back on a final wave of pleasure and she succumbed to her orgasm.

Hotch felt her body go limp, knew she had passed out and loosened his grip on the tie. He slowed his pace, maintaining the depth of each thrust, but stretching out each retreat from the heat of body. He pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest, forcing more oxygen into her lungs. Emily let loose a little cough and gasp, sucking in air as she was roused from her stupor. When he was convinced that she had revived enough, Hotch resumed his domination of her body. They groaned in unison as he again plunged deep and hard into her.

_Oh god_, Emily thought, _he's going to fuck me into incoherence._

Hotch used his fingers to spread her wider for him, maintaining his pace and preventing any possible retreat from the tide of sensation.

"Come for me, Emily," he growled. She could barely understand the words. They were rough, animalistic. "I need you to come for me again, my love."

She couldn't find the words to respond. Instead, she let herself go, knowing that the demon within her had met its match in the beast that lurked in Aaron Hotchner's soul. She welcomed the onslaught of sensation, absorbed his sexual energy until she was more than satiated. Just before her eyes rolled back again, before the world went dark from the overload of her orgasm, Emily swore she saw him glow too. A warm, rich amber light seemed to radiate from his skin as he came, pulsing with each wave of seed he released into her body. For the first time she reveled in her own pale light, embraced it and let the sensations wracking her body sweep her away.

Hotch came in a silent roar. He could feel Emily drawing on him, pulling energy from his body even as she fainted again. Before the final wave of his release washed over him, he bit down on her left breast, over the clover scar left by Ian Doyle. As his orgasm washed through him, he drew the sweet taste of her into his mouth, obliterating the mark of another and leaving his own. Emily was his now and he wouldn't allow the symbol of another man to remain on her body. When he could take no more, Hotch collapsed on top of her, struggling for breath. Like Emily's, his beast was well-sated, quiet for the first time since it had woken in him. Hotch felt something like contentment curl through him as he managed to roll off Emily and drag her onto his chest. His eyes drifted closed as he listened to the frantic beat of her heart slow to its normal pace. For the first time in years, he prayed, hoping desperately that two broken souls like theirs, two people cursed with insatiable demons, could find peace together.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed. Leave a word or two if you've got the time. Thanks.**


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